Neon Green Laces And Bad Influences
by Captain Alfie
Summary: Albus hasn't left his room for a week, and Lily wants to find out why, but she is quite shocked by her discovery. Swearing, self harm, implied drug use, incest and slash. M. COMPLETE!
1. PART I ALIFE

**AN. This was inspired by 'Alfie' by Lily Allen, a trip to Manchester and mentions of Christmas presents… yes, I am inspired by strange things, but I think you'll get the song reference. xD I'd love to know what you think of it, so please review! Also, I was thinking of maybe making this a three or so part fic, so tell me if you'd like it continued, because I'm not sure...**

**WARNINGS. Swearing, implied drug use, self harm and slash.**

**DISCLAIMER. Just that word tells you I own none of it, doesn't it? The characters are JKR's, and the kind-of quotes and ideas taken from 'Alfie' are Lily Allen's. **

**No dedication on this one, she knows who she is.**

**NEON GREEN LACES AND BAD INFLUENCES  
PART I (ALFIE)**

A week. Lily sighed. She hadn't seen the younger of her two brothers for a whole fucking week; and Al was the one who was in the same damn house as her! James was up in Manchester with Teddy, but she'd seen him a couple of days ago – why Al wouldn't leave his room, she had no idea.

Albus Severus Potter hadn't left his bedroom since he first arrived home for the Christmas holidays. He hadn't eaten for the first two days, until Ginny had realised and started leaving food outside the door for him. Neither Ginny, Harry, Lily nor James, when he and Teddy turned up unexpectedly for dinner had managed to talk to him, either, and his room had seemed fairly quiet until, Lily figured, Al had fixed his old wireless, because a few days ago loud music began blaring from his room. But enough was enough, she had decided. The holidays were only two-and-a-half weeks long, and Christmas was two days away (almost every room in the house was decorated besides Al's) – she was going to get Albus out of his room, or at least find out why the fuck he wouldn't leave it.

Standing outside Albus' bedroom door (the one covered in stickers advertising Muggle bands and clothing brands, and sporting a handwritten 'Albus' Room' sign with a drawing of a snake, which James had coloured in like a rainbow after Al came out), Lily took a deep breath. She knew that she shouldn't be scared of her own brother, especially one she used to be so close to, but she had a bad feeling about this. She knocked, hard, but there was no answer. She knocked again; still nothing. She kicked the door in frustration. Maybe he just hadn't noticed?

"Al! Al?" She called. "Allie?"

There was still no answer. Lily tried to turn the door handle, but it was locked.

She signed, about to give up, but then she smirked. There was still something she could try, that Al would definitely react to. Thank Merlin for Victoire, Lily thought, before yelling.

"ALFIE!" Lily banged on the door again, just in case Al was planning to ignore his cousin's hated nickname for him. "Open the goddamned door, Alfie!"

She was about to hit the door again, but Lily lowered her clenched fist as the lock clicked and the door swung open.

Her relief was short-lived.

As soon as the door opened it became obvious just how smoky the room was, and Lily began to cough as she forced herself to step inside. What the hell had Al been doing in here? The floor was littered with cigarette butts, used tissues, empty Red Bull cans (where Al had been getting them from she had no idea), Firewhisky bottles and various weird-looking packets. Al's wand lay on the unmade bed, on top of the bundled up bed sheets and random items of clothing.

Al himself was also laid on the bed, his head hanging off the edge and his feet (one bare, one wearing a black and gold pinstriped converse with neon green laces, the pair of which Lily stepped over as she moved further into the room) hanging out of the open window. His hair, which was messy at the best of times, was long and uneven; his black jeans had white smudges on them, and his t-shirt advertising some band or other seemed to be bloodstained. He held a cigarette in one hand and slowly brought it to his lips as he watched his sister staring at him. His face was gaunter than she remembered; his bloodshot eyes looked unfocused and empty of emotion and, if Lily wasn't mistaken, there was a criss-cross of scars and fresh cuts up both of his arms.

Her jaw dropped, and he finally showed some emotion. He smirked.

"What do you want, Lil?" Al asked. He spoke slowly, cautiously, as if he was trying to remember how to talk to another human being.

Lily shut her mouth, then opened it again, and the frowned and shut it. Now she was here, she had no idea what to say to him.

"It's Christmas Eve tomorrow, Al," she said, finally.

He frowned at her. "So? I'm not a fucking Christian. Why should I care? Jesus is a load of shit; Happy fucking Birthday non-existent God-guy."

"There's no need to swear, Al." She said softly. He glared. "I know you're not a Christian," Lily continued, "you've said so since you were thirteen. But Grandma and Grandpa Weasley and James and Teddy and several dozen other relations are coming over and they want to _see _you, Allie."

He laughed, humourlessly. Lily didn't know Al was even capable of that, and she found herself suddenly missing his old laugh.

"Not like this they don't," Al said, simply.

Lily surveyed her brother and his surroundings again, and felt her eyes prick with tears. There was a few moments' silence, until Lily blinked away the tears and stiffened her resolve.

"Yeah," she said, sharply, "about this. What the _fuck _is up with you, Allie? What the hell are you doing to yourself?"

"Fuck off, Lil. It's none of your business." He had turned his attention back to his cigarette, and seemed to be rooting around under his pillow for something.

"I care about you. So does James. What do you think he'd say if he say you like this?"

Al's hand stilled. "He'd laugh his fucking socks off and say 'I told you Malfoy was a bad influence'," He said, dryly. He sounded as if he didn't care, but Lily was sure there were tears in his eyes.

She looked down at her feet. "Er, would you like a cup of tea, Alby?"

When Lily looked up, the tears in Al's eyes had gone. Maybe she had just imagined it?

"No. Er, thank you." He added.

Lily bit her bottom lip, ignoring the tears as they began to fall down her cheeks. "For Merlin's sake, Al!" She burst out, "Just come downstairs?"

Al gave his little sister an almost apologetic look and reached over for his wand. "I'm sorry, Lil, but I can't."

Lily guessed what Albus was about to do moments before he did, and she yelled out just as he disapparated with a loud crack.

When Ginny found her daughter ten minutes later, she was sitting on Albus' deserted bed, crying into her hands.


	2. PART II REAL WORLD

**AN. All two of you who reviewed (one of them being Caketin, who shouldn't technically count) asked me to continue, so I have done. Although two is a pitiful number of reviews… I'm sure that more than two people have read it. Anyway, this chapter is inspired by Real World, by the All-American Rejects, and MJ (an amazing person who plays an amazing Scorpius… Al and I shall take them both away in a large box and keep them forever). References to stolen ties, Al's rant and their third year are all thanks to her. **

**By the way, in case anyone noticed, yes I am aware that Al is now running around in one shoe. (:  
And I apologise for this chapter being so short. **

**WARNINGS. Mentions of slash and self harm in this chapter, along with swearing (surprise, surprise).**

**DEDICATION. MJ, even though I doubt you'll ever read this. I love you, and Scorp (and Marley). **

**And, well… she knows who she is and she knows why. I'm glad you like it, doll. (;**

**DISCLAIMER. I don't own anything here. The characters and setting belong to JKR, and lyrics, quotes and misquotes are borrowed from **_**Real World **_**by the All-American Rejects.**

**NEON GREEN LACES AND BAD INFLUENCES  
****PART II (REAL WORLD)**

Only once before had Albus apparated without thinking about where he was going, and it was not an experience he had planned on repeating. Now, with the darkness pulling and pushing his body in ways that couldn't be doing him any good, he was terrified. _Think, Potter, think._ But the weird feeling of apparating and the fear were stopping his brain from functioning properly. _Come on, or you're going to splinch yourself…_

Crack.

Merlin, he was never doing that again. At least he was somewhere now, and away from his family. Now all he had to do was find out where exactly he had landed himself. Looking around, Albus was sure he recognised his surroundings, and he had a horrible suspicion of where he had ended up.

It only took one albino peacock to confirm his suspicions. Oh, shit, no. Not here; anywhere but here.

The last time Albus had been here… no, he didn't even want to think about it. The memories, which had been so happy, were now horribly painful. The summer house wasn't that far away, he could see it through the trees, and if he turned around…

What he saw made him freeze, eyes wide. Al had been expecting to see Malfoy Manor when he turned, and more peacocks on the perfectly manicured lawn. What he definitely _hadn't_ been expecting to see was the heir to the Malfoy estate himself.

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy: taller than Al, paler too, with his blond hair tied back out of his grey-blue eyes. Al's only ex-boyfriend; and one with a surname as dubious and avoided as Al's was famous and admired.

"Potter," Scorpius' voice was cold, a tone reflected in the icy stare he fixed on Albus.

For a moment Al just stood, staring wide-eyed at the other boy. _Fuck, he looks…_He began to think, but stopped himself quickly. It was over between them, Al reminded himself. It had been since not long before the start of the holidays, after an argument over James, of all things, and shouting at a level which hadn't been heard between the pair of Slytherins since Albus' (rather hypocritical) rant about how oblivious Scorpius was, back in third year.

Al suddenly realised that Scorpius had spoken, and began to struggle to find an intelligent reply. He quickly gave up.

"Malfoy," he said, trying to sound like he didn't care.

Al watched as Scorpius' eyes flicked over him, lingering on his arms. His short-sleeved T-shirt made no effort to hide the criss-cross on both of his forearms: old scars, freshly healed cuts, and several very recent, still open wounds.

"When-" Scorpius started, but he didn't finish his sentence. Al thought he must have realised that he wasn't supposed to care any more.

"Third year," Al spat, spilling his deepest secret unceremoniously. "And the last week or two. Figure."

Scorpius' eyes widened slightly, but otherwise he showed no emotion.

Al's teeth found his bottom lip. Either the Malfoy honestly didn't care about him at all, or he was a damn sight better at acting than Albus was.

"Welcome to the real world, Albus. Everyone has their own way of coping with it, and if yours is to poison and damage yourself, that's your own problem. So tragic; the son of the Boy Who Lived, bringing himself to an early grave, but if that's what you want…" Scorpius shrugged, as if you add 'that's what you get'.

Al tried again to look as if he didn't care, but he was very aware of it not really working, despite his best efforts. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with his wand as a distraction.

Scorpius looked as if he was about to say something, but then changed his mind. The tension hung heavy in the air – Al couldn't stay any longer, but he couldn't bring himself to just leave, either.

After standing there for several moments, Scorpius eyeing him warily while Albus stared off into space, Al managed to solve his own problem. A line came to him from a song Teddy had told him and James had been one of the Metamorphmagus' favourites when he was younger.

_With all emotion set aside, in a whisper say goodbye._

He looked up at Scorpius, the idea of where he was going to apparate to formed firmly in his mind.

"Goodbye." He said softly, not waiting for Scorpius' reaction before disapparating with a loud crack, his left hand gripping a stolen silver-and-green Hogwarts tie in his pocket.


	3. PART III NON MUSICAL SILENCE

**AN. No song for this one, I couldn't think of one… but 29 seconds of silence seemed to fit. It's short again, but there's no way I could have made it longer, so I hope you don't mind. xD There's probably going to be one more chapter after this one, just in case you were wondering. **

**And please, REVIEW! I'm begging, I need my jelly bean substitutes. (:**

**WARNINGS. I don't think I need a language warning (don't hold me to that, though), but there's cutting/self harm and implied slash and incest. Whoot. **

**DEDICATION. CAKETIN. There, you finally get your name in… er, not quite lights, but big block capitals, anyway. You know where your references are in here, but that (not **_**that**_**, obviously) is over, right? **

**DISCLAIMER. Still not mine, surprise, surprise. The characters are JKR's, and Non Musical Silence is off the All-American Rejects album, When the World Comes Down. **

**NEON GREEN LACES AND BAD INFLUENCES  
PART III (NON MUSICAL SILENCE) **

Al's eyes were stinging with tears as he apparated into James and Teddy's flat. Technically it was Teddy's, but as James had been living there since he graduated (he had moved in with a promise to move out as soon as he got a job, but then had been too lazy to find his own place), and was helping to pay the rent, everyone referred to it as James and Teddy's. Al knew that they would both be at either his and James' parents' house or Teddy's Grandmother's, so he would get some peace.

As soon as he had regained his balance, Al didn't waste any time. Tears now streaming unnoticed down his cheeks, he began to rifle through drawers in the living room and bedrooms, hunting for the cigarette stash James would have undoubtedly hidden from his flat mate.

Albus eventually found them in the back of a kitchen cupboard, but only after leaving odd-looking muddy footprints (if he had been thinking about it more he would have been regretting only wearing one shoe) across a lot of the wooden floor throughout the flat. A quick 'scourgify' fixed that, although it did leave the places where the footprints had been slightly cleaner than everywhere else.

It was a good hiding place, the back of the cupboard, Al had decided, because knowing James' love of fast food and raw carrots, and Teddy's Grandmother's great cooking (not to mention Grandma Molly's), he doubted the pair ever actually used the kitchen properly. He grabbed an unopened packet from the pile in the corner (hidden behind several dusty tins of baked beans) and ripped it open impatiently. He dropped his old cigarette butt into James' ash tray and lit another. Then, holding the cigarette between his lips as he shoved his wand and the packet into his jeans pocket, Al made his way into the bathroom.

He was relying on the fact that James still didn't trust himself with hair-removal charms, or just still preferred the solid reliability of a razor. It only took Al a moment or two of searching to find that he was in luck. He took a deep breath, not noticing when his cigarette fell into the sink. Even after all this time it scared him (James had always said that it wasn't just Al's Slytherin-like traits that had prevented him from being sorted into Gryffindor, but also a severe lack of courage. Al had always protested, but he knew there was some truth in it), and there was a small voice in his head telling him there was still time to back out. He didn't. He couldn't.

The razor blades left jagged red lines across his wrist, but the pain was far from close to the level he wanted to feel.

The tear tracks had dried on his cheeks, but his eyes began to sting again as he replaced James' razor. He had barely noticed the blood stain on the bathroom floor, and he left the room without doing anything to clean it.

Once back in the kitchen, Albus began to root almost frantically through the cupboards again. He quickly found what he was looking for, opened a bottle of Fire Whisky with his teeth and downed almost half the bottle.

His head spun, and he grabbed the countertop to steady himself. His grip slackened and the bottle slipped from his fingers, falling to the floor and smashing. The brief thought of his cigarette abandoned in the bathroom crossed Al's mind, but then his head began to spin again and he stumbled.

What the hell was he doing here? He had planned to come here, but he couldn't for the life of him remember why. The flat was empty… but _he _would be back soon, no doubt. James: the damn reason why he had broken up with Scorpius in the first place. James and Scorpius hated each other. And James and Al? They hated each other, but they were closer than two brothers were supposed to be.

James had seen his scars, but he hadn't said anything. He hadn't done anything to try and help Al. Hadn't cared. He had unquestioningly accepted Al's explanation that they were old, from third year, even though many obviously weren't.

_So let James learn from his mistakes. Let him see the truth. _

Al sank to his knees, his fingers trailing above him down the cupboard door, trying in vain to grip and keep him upright. He grabbed the largest piece of the broken glass and, his vision blurred with tears, ran the sharpest edge across the already-marred skin of his left forearm once, twice, several more times. He barely winced, but as he watched his own blood mix with the spilled Fire Whisky, it was both pain and tears blurring his vision.

The last thought that occupied his mind was of how horribly cold Scorpius had been, and then he blacked out.


	4. GIVE ME NOVACAINE

**AN. So, the final chapter. I am so so so so so sorry I took so long to update – school, illness and Caketin have kept me very busy, I'm afraid. But here, it's done. It's not the best, I know, but I hope you like it? It didn't seem right to give it a properly happy ending, so you can take it how you want. **

**This chapter was originally inspired by Dearly Beloved, the fourth part of Jesus of Suburbia / City of the Damned / I Don't Care / Dearly Beloved / Tales of Another Broken Home by Green Day, but the main inspiration, particularly for the last part was Give Me Novacaine, also by Green Day.**

**WARNINGS. Slash, swearing, mentions of self harm. **

**DEDICATION. My Jimmy. I love you. 3**

**DISCLAIMER. I'm making no money for this… HP related things you recognise belong to JKR, Dearly Beloved and Give Me Novacaine quotes, misquotes and ideas credit to Green Day. **

**NEON GREEN LACES AND BAD INFLUENCES  
****PART IV (GIVE ME NOVACAINE) **

He had been awake for a while, but Al could not bring himself to open his eyes. He had no idea where he was, but he was definitely lying in a bed, and was not dressed in his own clothes. There was someone clutching each of his hands, and he could hear hushed voiced talking around him. Al struggled to recall what had happened, but thinking too hard made his head hurt. After a moment of listening harder, Albus found that he could place some of the voices. His parents, another adult voice he didn't know, James, Lily, and… Scorp?

Al's eyes finally fluttered open. The people around him did not immediately notice, which gave him time to take in his surroundings. He was in a hospital bed: a healer was speaking to his parents at the end of it, and Lily was clutching her mother's hand in worry. James had a tight grip on his younger brother's hand, but was turned to listen to the healer. The final person in the room was holding Al's other hand and looking straight at him. Scorpius.

The next few moments went in slow motion for Albus. Scorpius smiled; Lily glanced over to her brother and, seeing that he was awake, squealed and began to talk incomprehensibly at him; James looked in his direction, half happy, half disapproving, and Ginny embraced Harry, her eyes glinting with tears.

Despite the fuss being about him waking up, Al found that he was rather forgotten whilst everyone was busy hugging and being happy. Looking down at his arms, Al saw that all of his cuts had been healed, leaving only thin, white scars which were almost invisible against his pale skin.

He knew that he should be happy about this, grateful to the healers, but somehow he just felt empty inside. It hadn't cured anything, had it? The cuts were there because he needed the physical feeling of pain. It was a release from the psychological pain – the feelings eating him away from the inside. The cuts would be quickly replaced, whatever they told him, he was sure.

Al caught a snatch of what the healer was saying to his parents, and snorted in disbelief.

"_Keep the press away as long as possible … should be able to have a fresh start…"_

Yeah, right. As soon was word got out that he was awake the press would be round the door like bees to a honey pot. And as for a fresh start, nothing had changed except his parents now knew just what had been going on behind Al's closed bedroom door.

Al began to wonder just how much James and Scorpius had told the healer and his parents, but his thoughts were interrupted by the healer.

"Mr Potter," she said, putting her hand on Al's shoulder. "I hope you understand that even though you are conscious we are going to have to keep you here for a few days under observation."

Albus nodded numbly. What did he care? There was nothing for him outside the hospital, after all.

"We've managed to mostly wean him off his addictions," she continued, now to the room at large. Al winced. It was easy for her to talk about it in such a matter-of-fact way, but it was still a painful topic for him. "But the nicotine has been a problem. You should be thankful you're a wizard, Albus."

Al nodded again, but as the healer left the room, followed by his parents and Lily to show them some scan or other, he couldn't help wondering what the point of being alive was right now. If he had been a Muggle he would be dead by now, he knew that. But one of the perks of being a wizard was more resistance to illness or poisons than muggles, and also the fact that you'd respond a lot better to magical healing techniques. For those reasons, and other odd biological things that magic did to you, wizards, on average, had a much higher life expectancy than muggles, and Al was alive now. In his opinion pointlessly.

"Al…" Albus didn't look up at his brother's voice. He didn't care about what James had to say: whatever it was, it would sound empty and unimportant right now.

Al felt James squeeze his hand, but he stayed staring down at the stark white sheets. Above him, James and Scorpius exchanged worried glances. After several minutes of silence Albus forced his eyes shut, hoping that James and Scorpius would think he had fallen asleep again. He didn't want to talk, especially to them.

However Al had neglected the fact that James and Scorpius were probably the two people who knew him better than anyone else. The pretending didn't work on them.

"Al, listen, please." The tone of James' voice was something Al hadn't heard very often. The joking arrogance was gone, replaced by a small something which Al knew meant that he actually cared. Albus finally looked up, although still avoiding looking at the two young men at his bedside.

"We- We've talked, Al. Mal- I mean, Scorpius and I. That doesn't mean either of us have changed our minds on whose fault all this was…" his stupid arrogant confidence has returned then, Al thought bitterly, it can't have been such a serious topic for him if he could still joke about it.

"I'm not saying it's not your fault, Al," James carried on, matter-of-factly, "but it's not _just _your fault. I was stupid, and Scorpius has admitted to messing up as well. But, er, you managed to fuck up two relationships, little brother."

"James has told me what happened between you," Scorpius said. Al struggled to tell the emotion his voice betrayed: not much, it was a Malfoy thing to be as closed as possible, but Al thought Scorp sounded more worried than angry. "And about Teddy… Um, I forgive you."

Al just blinked up at them, not managing to take any of it in properly. It- It made no sense. He closed his eyes, trying to ease the headache which was building quickly. He hated this dull ache; he needed the sharp stab of pain that came from running a razor blade or penknife across his wrist, the pinprick of the sharp end of a safety pin or badge.

"Jimmy…" he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of use. James seemed startled for a moment: Al knew that no one had called him by his childhood nickname for years. Then his expression changed, and Al knew he understood. Scorpius was looking worriedly from one brother to the other, and he tightened his grip on Al's hand.

At that moment the door opened, and the healer and Albus' father returned to the room. Al barely noticed them: he felt strangely comforted by the tightness of James and Scorpius' grip, and the sensations of their warm grip and the pain of his headache was overwhelming him.

The healer was talking to the others now, and probably to Al as well, but Albus didn't hear. He felt James and Scorpius' grip slacken and leave him altogether. Until a moment this would have troubled him, but somehow it felt alright now.

Al heard faint footsteps, someone walking around his bed, and that someone – the cooler touch and large, roughened hand made Al sure it was James – took his hand again, holding it tight. Albus was so focused on his brother's touch that he barely noticed the sharp prick of the needle in the top of his other arm. He wondered what it was, but James was telling him everything was alright, and someone, (Scorpius? probably), quickly pressed their lips to Al's as he slipped once again into the darkness, although this time it was different, a lot more comforting.


End file.
